


STRING OF PEARLS

by daphne_demure



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1992-02-10
Updated: 1992-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-22 01:35:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphne_demure/pseuds/daphne_demure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's a body to do when the heart rules the head?<br/>Previously published in IT'S GREEK TO ME</p>
            </blockquote>





	STRING OF PEARLS

Late watch on the LIBERATOR. After a week of indecision, Vila had volunteered for the shift usually bestowed on the ship's resident insomniac, Avon. The thief's barely concealed enthusiasm had earned him a suspicious glance from more than one individual on the flight deck; after all, few things were more important to his continued well–being than safety, soma, and sleep. But not necessarily in that order. However, in order to carry out his latest scheme, Vila needed access to LIBERATOR's further recesses, and he needed to go unobserved.

Judging the lateness of the hour from the ship's night–sounds as it glided through space, Vila decided that it was time to move. He slipped from the command chair and began making his way through the empty halls. His destination: the treasure room.

The thief smiled and his fingers literally twitched at the thought of the locked door he would encounter there. It seemed an odd precaution for Avon to take, for it was hardly likely that Tarrant, Cally or Dayna would abscond with the 'family jewels' as it were, and he was the resident lock–pick. But after the latest thwarted attempt by the Federation to take the LIBERATOR, the computer tech had decreed that all storage holds be kept locked and inaccessible to stow–aways or the mildly curious.

It was to thoughts of the computer genius that Vila turned as he stealthily crept past the crew's cabins. Had it been only one week ago that he and Avon had stood in that very treasure room attempting to choose acceptable payment for information leading to Blake's present whereabouts? Their informant was very discerning and had assured them that the knowledge he possessed would be well worth the exorbitant amount he demanded….

* * * * *

"But why do you need my help _this_ time? You've never bothered to ask for my opinion before," Vila whined as he surveyed the treasure room.

"Because," began Avon, barely able to control his irritation, "the usual rabble that we have to deal with is willing to accept more meager offerings." He had crossed the room to arrive at one of the many cache trunks which lined the floor of the great store room. "As our expert in the value of jewels and, shall we say, small objects d'art," the computer tech continued as he began sifting through the trunk, "I am employing you to select those items which will satisfy the demands of our contact, yet not prove to be too profitable. For him."

As Avon continued his assessment, Vila surveyed the items displayed on the shelves which lined the opposite wall. Feeling more than a little sorry for himself, he absent–mindedly ran his fingers over the pieces, occasionally picking one up to study it further. It was in this semi–contemplative mode that he realized he was being asked a question.

"Eh? What was that?" As Vila scurried to Avon's side, he felt a little sheepish that the tech might think he had been too engrossed in his appointed task to hear the question, when actually, he hadn't been paying particular mind to anything.

"I said," Avon began again, "have you found anything of use to us yet?" Noting the distracted look on the other's face, he guessed the worst. Gracing the smaller man with an offending glance, his eyes came to rest on the object Vila held.

"What is that?"

Following the tech's inquiring scrutiny, Vila only just seemed to realize that he was holding something and, looking down, saw that it was a box of some sort. A rather attractive box, it seemed to be made of black lacquer–wood and was intricately carved. The ancient figures contained thereon held no discernable design, but closer scrutiny of the box's lid revealed that the two most prominent 'figures' appeared to take shape and movement when the box was turned from side to side, their gestures entwining and seductive.

Somewhat mesmerized by the figures' play, Avon reached for the box. "What's inside?" he asked, more to himself than to Vila. Yet all his attempts to open it were unsuccessful, for the box had no visible means of opening. Each side was neatly fitted together, the complex carving unbroken by a line of joint or seam.

Taking the box from Avon, Vila gently turned it with practiced fingers. Ah yes, there, as he had anticipated, was the minute spring–lock disguised within a protuberance of the main design. Its depression caused the box to open upon itself, exposing a lining of deep crimson silk which cradled a strand of very large blue–black beads.

Avon had watched the proceedings with somewhat apprehensive curiosity. But when the box was open and its contents revealed, his gasp of astonishment made Vila scrutinize him suspiciously. Eyes bright and glassy, the computer tech lifted the strand from its nest. Even held to the harsh artificial light of the storeroom, the beads' velvety surfaces cast forth a dark–hued iridescent rainbow of colors.

"What are they?" Vila was somewhat surprised by the reaction of the usually reserved tech.

"Pearls," whispered Avon in a thick voice.

"What? Black pearls?" was the incredulous response. "Are they worth anything?"

"I thought that you were supposed to be the jewel expert." His attention focused on the item he held, Avon's retort lacked its usual edge. As he continued to hold them aloft, both men studied the strand more closely.

Approximately eighteen inches in length, the pearls were strung on a finely plaited black silken cord. Silken knots separated each pearl, and one end of the cord was tied into a large knot of elaborate design, ending in a long silken tassel. The knot at the other end was similar to the smaller ones which separated each pearl, its purpose merely to hold the last pearl in place.

The inflection in his voice bordering upon reverence, Avon expounded, "Even before the nuclear holocaust which necessitated the Domes, when Earth's waters were alive and teaming with life, pearls were much valued for their rarity and beauty." Appraising the pearls' size and luster, he added with an almost awed whisper, "These are truly rare indeed."

"They don't seem to have any type of clasp," Vila began to reach for the strand, "how are they worn?"

Pointing to what had lain hidden under the pearls, and which now glistened in the storeroom light, Avon indicated a slender vial of golden umber liquid resting on the red silk. "I do not believe they were ever intended to be… worn." The trace of a sardonic smile edged his seductively sculptured lips.

"Then what…?" the thief began. He noted the thick, slow–moving sheen coating the vial's inner walls for what it apparently was. Oil. "You don't mean…?" the look on his face horror–stricken, he snatched his advancing hand away as if the strand had suddenly come to life.

"Yes," Avon purred as he rested an appraising gaze on the smaller man. "An ancient Oriental eroticism; a means of heightening sexual pleasure at the moment of orgasm."

Vila quickly glanced at the other man. His initial shock dissipating, Vila noted the sudden glint in Avon's eyes. His mind performed mental aerobics as it contemplated the use, and potential, of the pearls. Could this be the avenue to his heart and body's goal — to finally have Avon in his bed? Standing so close to his desired one, body heat and scents heavy in the air between the two, fairly made his head swim. "Avon…." he whispered as he began to sway towards him, eyes half closed, lips slightly parted.

Comprehending the precariousness of the situation, Avon broke the mood by bending to retrieve the carved box from its resting place, just missing Vila's intended kiss. He straightened slowly and made a concentrated display of returning the pearls to their silken lodging, thus allowing Vila sufficient time to regain his composure. The box's hidden fastener closed with a resonant snap.

"I believe that it would be wise not to mention this to the others," Avon stated simply as he turned back to the jewel trunk he had previously been examining. "Come on. We still need to choose suitable collateral for the information which will point us in the direction of our Fearless Leader." Yet the tone of his voice was gentle and unreproachful.

* * * * *

That was one week ago.

The information for which they had paid so handsomely was indeed accurate, if not timely; they missed Blake by two days. Subsequent follow–ups as to his present whereabouts also proved to be fruitless. Avon had then decided that it was time they re–evaluated their priorities before taking any further decisive action, and it was in this present state of the crew's inactivity that Vila was able to formulate his plan.

Well, at least a portion of his plan. Vila knew that he would have no difficulty in procuring the pearls from their present place of security. He just wasn't quite sure how he was going to convince Avon to join him in their use. Each scenario he envisioned disjointed, Vila had not been able to choreograph the initial seduction, nor Avon's reaction should he be able to proceed that far. All he could dreamily contemplate was the actual deed for which the pearls were intended.

Shaking himself from his reverie, Vila approached the treasure room door. He needed his full attention for the task at hand, and thoughts of the normally self–composed computer genius writhing with inflamed passion above — or beneath — him was too, too distracting!

Taking the tools of his craft from their concealed place of hiding within his boot–lining, the thief easily opened the locked door. Once inside and the overhead lights on, Vila crossed to the shelf holding the carved box, but he was unable to bring himself to pick it up.

A sea of doubts whirled in his mind as he pondered the possible repercussions. Should he be successful in luring Avon to him, would the aloof tech be willing to share more than a mere night's pleasure? _Not that I'm bloodly likely to say no to a good tumble!_ he smirked. And Vila knew Avon would be good; that all that dark brooding would yield true fire once sparked. But from Avon he wanted more. What additional strains would be placed upon an already tenuous relationship? Decisions, decisions….

Blood pounding in his ears, Vila snatched up the box and held it tightly to his wildly–beating chest. _Oh well,_ he mused, _I can always change me mind._ And with that thought, Vila hastily departed the treasure room, wits barely about him to first ensure that the light was off and the door securely locked behind him.

His first goal attained and tucked safely away inside his tunic, it was time to return to his post. But not before briefly stopping at his cabin to hide his prize. As he stashed the box in one of his many well–concealed stockpiles, Vila wondered if it would be missed. He did not have too long to wonder.

* * * * *

The end of his mid–evening shift, and three days after his trip to the treasure room, Vila stepped from the shower. Drying himself, he reflectively anticipated his forthcoming sojourn to the medical unit for his favorite respite: Soma. Thus in deep contemplative thought he moved from the bath cubicle to find Avon in his cabin.

Avon was bent over the desk, his back to the bath; intent on rifling through the drawer's contents, he did not hear Vila enter the room. Draping the towel he held about his waist, Vila moved to the desk. Sensing the other's presence beside him, Avon straightened and turned to the cabin's owner. Neither man spoke as they appraised one another; Avon was not about to confess his transgression, nor did Vila need to ask what he was looking for.

"Vila?" turning back to the desk with calculated composure, Avon closed the drawer, "have you been to the treasure room since we two were there together?" Whirling about, he confronted the thief.

Nervously licking his lips, Vila hastened a look toward the concealed panel next to the desk. "Ah, why do you ask?" Trying to sound casual, he glanced back to Avon, but not before the tech was able to note his distraction.

"It appears that a very valuable, and interesting, item is missing." Dark eyes intent, Avon stepped toward Vila. "You _do_ know the whereabouts of a strand of black pearls." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Maybe one of the others …." Vila began to babble as he maneuvered around Avon to place distance, and the desk, between them. In his confusion, however, he had only managed to maneuver himself against the wall and nearer to the pearls' hiding place.

"No, Vila," Avon interrupted the flow of words, his lips and one eyebrow arched in a wicked rake, "it would be too much of a coincidence; that an item which has remained obliquely undisturbed for two years should suddenly disappear," again, he began to advance toward the smaller man, his gaze never faltering, "and so soon after its _true_ discovery."

 _Well, Restal, you've really gone and done it this time!_ Vila's mind reeled in near–hysteria. Should he confess to having the pearls, what possible excuse could he give for their possession except the truth? The prospect of disclosing his intentions to Kerr Avon caused him to shudder; and Kerr Avon was standing so close. The resulting goose–flesh caused Vila to realize that he clutched a mere towel about his burgeoning erection.

"Are you going to give them to me?" Avon's voice was soft and seductive; and Vila was drowning.

"Well, that depends on where you, er, want them." A sharp intake of breath preceded the ill–conceived quip. _Lord, why did I say that!_

Avon started at this, and then chuckled. "Ahh, Vila," he sighed, "that would be telling."

Avon's breath was warm on Vila's face as he lightly touched his lips to the thiefs; tentative at first, he sought permission. Finding no resistance from the befuddled thief, Avon took the final remaining step which brought the length of his body against the smaller man's. Arms encircling Vila, his tongue began the first furtive duel between lightly parted lips. Still sensing no contention, Avon slipped his hands down the length of Vila's back, fingers pressing beneath the towel, to rest on two warm quivering mounds of flesh. Vila gasped. Hands gently squeezing, he pulled the thief's hips to his in a slow grinding movement, cocks echoing mutual arousal through the confines of terry and leather. Vila moaned. Breaking the still tentative kiss, Avon tilted his head back to better observe the effect his ministrations were having on the man he held.

Thoughts muzzy with delighted surprise and desire, Vila slowly opened his eyes to behold those which were dark and fathomless. Unable to fully comprehend the turn of events which had resulted in Avon becoming the seducer after all his incoherent musings, Vila experienced the scenario as if in slow motion. Nerve endings tingled with expectant anticipation, and the ache in his groin pulsated with each beat of his pounding heart.

His gaze unwavering, Avon relinquished his hold of one cheek. With calculated flurry, he yanked the towel from Vila, letting it drop to the floor. Bringing his hand up, he caressed Vila's chest, the open palm tracing a sensuous eight across the sensitive skin. Gently squeezing one hardening nipple between thumb and forefinger elicited a soft whimper from the trembling thief. Lightly snaking fingertips from chest to belly, Avon bent to replace skilled fingers with even more skillful lips. First tonguing the turgid nib, then grasping it between gently clenched teeth, his hand dipped lower to encircle Vila's tightly straining erection.

With the towel's feigned protection gone, Vila was open and vulnerable, both body and soul. He felt unable to do more than passively accept whatever Avon offered, for fear that he would waken from this too, too wonderful dream. But this couldn't be another mere night's fantasy, could it? Tentatively reaching out, the feel of supple leather encasing the lithe form beneath his practiced fingers was real enough, as was the heat and musk which radiated from Avon. And the responses being elicited from his own treacherous body were far beyond any even his fertile imagination could muster! Fingers, then mouth, caressing highly erogenous areas sent whirlpools of sensations through his mind, spiraling down, down, clawing at his gut, clutching at his balls. The final descent of Avon's one hand to envelop his cock, while the other squeezed his arse, was more than he could endure.

"Please, Avon," the thiefs voice was thick with yearning, "gotta have ya. Now." Pulling the tech securely to him, he claimed Avon's lips, tongue thrusting urgently between them to plunder the sweetness within. No longer hesitant, nimble fingers deftly ran down the front of Avon's leathers, unclasping and unzipping all restraints they encountered. Finally, he was able to touch the flesh beneath; to slide his hands between the two skins. Reverently, Vila's fingers traced the path of black hair which thickly fanned from the center of the tech's chest to surround each dark aureole, down the flat muscled belly, to the dense patch at groin.

Breathless, Vila broke the kiss to step back against the wall and away from Avon's grasp. Slowly, he sank to his knees. Gently cupping his hand lower, he extricated his prize from its confinement, and Avon was truly a prize indeed. The cock was long and thick, a deep luscious red in its present engorged state; the balls beneath, heavy and pendulous, were lightly furred.

 _Nice,_ Vila's thoughts complimented, _all meat and potatoes._ And he was hungry.

Vila slid his hands up the backs of Avon's legs from ankle to buttocks, grasping the waist of the tech's pants. Slowly, like a snake shedding its skin, he peeled the leathers down over the tight mounds and finely muscled thighs, leaving them in a constraining circle about Avon's knees. Then sliding his hands back up the now naked thighs, he brought them to rest on the tech's hips.

Shifting slightly, splaying his booted feet as wide apart as his pants would allow, Avon leant forward, resting the hands of both out–stretched arms on the wall above  
Vila's head. In this position, he was afforded the best leverage, and view, of what was about to come.

Easing himself forward, Vila bent to kiss the sensitive spot at the back of one knee. Licking and nibbling his way up the inside of one leg and down the other, he carefully avoided that which so adamantly demanded his attention. Repeating the assault, Vila continued to thwart Avon's attempts to maneuver the straining member into his dodging mouth. He was driving the tech to distraction, and enjoying every moment of it!

"Vila!" the hoarse bark a command to cease the endless torture, "get on with it."

"My, aren't we in a snit!" was the reply in a low, throaty chuckle.

But he was more than willing to comply. Gently kneading the firm flesh beneath his fingers, he brought his face to the center of the other's being. Breathing in the heady scent of aroused male sex, Vila buried his nose in Avon's balls. Nuzzling in deeper, his tongue snaked out to lap at the tender skin between scrotum and anus. Licking around each teste, teeth raked tender flesh and tugged at silky hairs before Vila drove his tongue back toward the puckered opening.

Avon gasped in surprise, his body trembling at the onslaught. Involuntarily, his hips lunged forward, nearly knocking his tormentor off balance.

"Easy, easy," the thief sniggered as he grasped Avon's hips to steady them both, "you are an inpatient lad, now, aren't you?"

Again, Vila eased himself forward to place a chaste kiss on the head of the phallus towering before him. The touch caused it to jerk upward, the weeping blind eye in search of more satisfying stimulation. Lightly tracing along the line of hip bone and the joint of groin, Vila brought one hand down to cradle the heavy sac. Gently rolling the testes between agile fingers, he brought the other hand down to firmly grasp the base of the throbbing cock. Reverently, the tip of his tongue caught the dewy drop of pre–cum.

"Loverly," Vila whispered, savoring the flavor before he slowly, slowly engulfed the other man.

From his vantage point above, Avon watched with intense pleasure: watched the smaller man, his body deceptively compact, his erect cock impressive as it, too, achingly sought release; watched as skilled hands and mouth lovingly paid homage to his body. He closed his eyes and let his head loll back to better concentrate on the sensations assaulting his flesh.

Nose pressed into coarse dark hair, Vila ran his flattened tongue along the shaft's tender underside, dragging the foreskin back and forth, and was awarded a throaty groan. Tongue spiraling over and under, frenulum grazing sensitive glans with each passing, he began a steady sucking rhythm.

Further bracing himself against the wall, Avon began his own rhythm, meeting each advancement with a shallow thrust. At the present pace, he would not be able to hold out much longer; already, he could feel the tightening in belly and balls which signaled his impending release. But he wanted, needed, to wait and could, if only….then a moistened finger sought the guarded ring of muscle, and pressed inward.

"Vila!" Avon cried out. Wrenching himself free, constricting leathers caused Avon to stumble back a step, and hands which clutched at Vila's shoulders awkwardly pulled the thief to his feet, holding him at arm's length. Gasping lungs full of air, Avon attempted to still the trembling in his legs, and the raging in his groin. Long moments passed as Avon eased the startled thief against the wall and, with unsteady hands stroking from hip to flank, eased himself against Vila. Painful erections first dueled, then began to subside as each man attempted to regain his composure. For now.

"That," Avon's voice was ragged as he rested his perspiring forehead against Vila's, "was too close." Hand gently tilting chin upward, Avon lightly kissed the thief's talented mouth. "I have every intention," he purred between kisses, "of prolonging our enjoyment," kiss, "and I do not propose," kiss, "to accomplish this partially clothed," kiss, "nor vertical." Kiss. "Shall we?" Avon gestured first to his still leather–clad physique, then to the bed beyond.

Completely caught up in the moment and still unable to believe in the providence which placed Avon here before him, Vila missed the cue signaling the tech's approaching orgasm. He only knew that he wanted this man, and had dreamed of pleasuring him in a hundred different ways. The abrupt withdrawal, therefore, momentarily stunned him. Not until he was once agam being caressed and pressed against the tech's length, did he realize that Avon intended to bring him as much pleasure as well. Eyes bright and cherubic face breaking into an endearing smile, Vila nodded his assent. He could hardly wait to have this panther–turned–lamb turn panther again. For him. As Avon eased the leather tunic from his shoulders, Vila knelt to remove the tech's boots and socks, then finished peeling the tight leather pants off over the well–formed calves. As Avon reached down to assist Vila to his feet and turning, to guide him to the bed, the thief was awarded a wonderful view of all the tech's finer assets.

"Oh, and Vila," stopping as if in mid–thought, Avon turned back to gesture towards the wall, "don't forget the pearls."

The pearls! With all of the nervous, then passionate distractions which had ensured, Vila had forgotten the very reason for Avon's being here.

Moving to its place of hiding, he retrieved the elegantly carved black box. _Tonight's the night, Vila me boy!_ Grinning, he turned and scampered to the bed.

His breathing returning to near–normal, Avon lay on the bed and watched as Vila divulged the whereabouts of one of his notorious stockpiles, filing the information away for later use. For now, he wanted only to enjoy the moment.

The tech appraised the deceptively compact build of the smaller man. From behind, broad shoulders made way down lean sides to well–rounded buttocks, then to powerful thighs and calves. As Vila turned and rapidly moved towards the bed, Avon's hungry gaze raked him from head to toe. Fair skin was smooth and taut over a muscular chest and flat belly; a thick trail of soft brown hair began at the navel, fanning down to the groin, and a near–aroused cock  
bobbed above weighty balls with each jarring step. Audaciously stretching, Avon smiled. Legs comfortably splayed, head propped back on one arm, he absently stroked his semiquiescent erection. Oh, yes, he was going to enjoy this!

"Starting without me, are you?" Vila complained in mock–indignation.

"You were taking so long, I thought that you had lost interest," words seductively sarcastic, the tech purposely scrutinized the other.

"What? Does this look like 'lost interest'?" grabbing his hardening cock, Vila wagged it at his intended victim. "Not bloody likely!"

"Then come here and prove it." Challenge made.

Needing no further invitation, Vila lowered himself onto the bed, and Avon. Matching his length thigh to thigh, chest to chest, cock to cock, the thief moved in to capture the tech's offending mouth. Lips parted and tongues dueled as each sought to take oral possession of the other. Hands caressed, hips writhed, as both were lost in a renewed frenzied moment of passion. Challenge met.

Breaking the kiss merely long enough to catch his breath, the thief began making his way down the computer tech. Love bites were placed along the ridged line of sculptured jaw, to the hollow of soft throat, but not hard enough to mar Avon's delicate skin. His lips running the expanse of collar–bone to shoulder, then nuzzling lower, Vila pinned one of Avon's arms above the tech's head. Burying his face in the tender pit, his tongue swirling around and around the soft hair, Vila reveled in the scent and taste of the other man; slightly salty, with a nuance of leather. Lips otherwise engaged, his fingers had begun an assault of their own on aroused nipples.

Beneath the thief, Avon repositioned his legs to encompass the hips of the smaller man, kneeling between his spread thighs, and initiated a gentle rocking. Each controlled motion brought straining erections together in a whispered kiss. Softly caressing the flank nearest his free hand, the tech sought to moderate their too–quickly built passion, so that each experience could be fully savored.

Perceiving Avon's latest mood change, Vila glanced up to see the tech watching him. The outpouring of raw emotion from the dark eyes brought a lump to his throat, and he tentatively brought one hand up to caress the beloved face. All other movement ceased as sensitive fingers tenderly traced each line of the angular planes. His gaze never wavered, as if attempting to put every sight and sensation to memory should there prove to be no other opportunity: the feel of the other's embrace, their heated flesh, the scent of arousal, the obsidian eyes. He lightly brushed the tech's lips with his own. Running the tip of his tongue along their luscious outline, he once again sought entry.

Reveling in the sensations being created by his lover, Avon stroked the thief's silky hair. Arms encircling the smaller man, he firmly grasped Vila's shoulders and rolled him onto his back.

"Sweet Vila," the tech sighed as he claimed a kiss of his own. He moved to lick, then gently bite each hardened nipple. His tongue lazily snaked its way across chest and down belly to the tender navel. Avon lapped at the sweat pooled therein. He proceeded down and using the broad width of his tongue, raked the sensitive juncture of inner thigh and groin. Hot breath seared the delicate sac as he engulfed first one, then both testicles. Several firm, sucking tugs elicited a deep groan of pleasure from the thief. Allowing each perfect orb to slip past his lips to proceed further, he playfully nipped at the sac's puckering flesh.

Beneath the tech, Vila attempted to squelch his impending orgasm. For too long had he imagined maneuvering the aloof computer tech into the position he now found himself. The mere thought of Avon performing such erotic intimacies for his pleasure seemed beyond his comprehension. The tech's too real descent onto his aching erection, therefore, was nearly his undoing; with a wry thought, he hoped to ensure that he would be 'up' for the final bout. Groping across the bed, his hand found the item it sought. Depressing the hidden spring, the carved box opened to reveal its contents.

Never one to leave a task half completed once he had set his mind to it, Avon was engrossed in the task of thoroughly sucking Vila's cock. He was not initially aware, then, when the fingers entwined in his hair began urgently tugging.

"Avon," the thief rasped, "Avon, Luv. Stop, or it'll be over before it's begun. Here, take this."

Dark, glazed eyes attempted to focus on that which was being presented before them. The vial of oil. Looking up to Vila's strained expression, Avon reluctantly relinquished his hold. Placing a final chaste kiss on the head of the eagerly straining cock, he rose to his knees. Taking the proffered vial, Avon assisted Vila to a kneeling position, and face to face at the center of the bed, they regarded one another reflectively.

"Hold out your hands," Avon instructed as he unflasked the vial. Vila complied, and a generous amount of oil was poured into each cupped palm. The heady scent which arose to assail their senses was heavy with musk, sandalwood, and cedar; a strangely opiate combination. The thief moved as if to anoint his lover.

"Wait." Avon flasked the vial, set it aside, and raised both hands above Vila's, palms down and poised as if in preparation to elicit a complicated command from a reticent computer key–board. First dipping both middle fingers, the tech proceeded to lightly run each single digit around the parameter of the pooled oil; over the highly sensitive fingertips, down the sides of each palm, over the fleshy mounds, up the thumbs, and back to the fingertips. Again and again, the palms were circled. One finger was replaced by two, two by three, and so on until each palm was being seductively caressed by its partner.

Both men, intent on the tactile stimulation, again met each other's gaze, and leaning toward one another, the tips of their outstretched tongues met to entwine at the moment each straining erection was encompassed. Movements echoing one another, a second palm cupped weighty balls as fingers delved between sweaty cheeks to find tight sphincters. Hands and fingers stroking, caressing, each man prepared the other, each giving the other a choice.

Placing a parting kiss on his lover's lips, Avon bent to retrieve the pearls. Holding the tasseled end in one hand, he repeatedly ran the strand through a well–oiled fist. Hesitant, placing a hand over the tech's, Vila stilled his ministrations.

"Avon, I want to feel _you_ inside of me." A choice was made.

Each man intently regarded the other a moment longer, the ritual of domination and submission age–old. Then, with the ghost of a smile about his lovely lips, Avon relinquished the pearls. The choice was acknowledged.

Laying back onto cool sheets, Vila pulled Avon down with him. No longer needing to restrain their long–anticipated passion, both sought to bring the other to the height of ecstasy. Hands and mouths hungrily devoured flesh merely tasted before, as the sounds and smells of aroused sex hung heavily around them. Their faces were flushed with excitement, eyes hooded with desire, lips swollen from kissing.

Moving into place between the thighs of the smaller man, Avon slid Vila's muscular legs over his shoulders. Positioning his cock at the portal of his lover's body, he began the slow descent into oblivion. The thief's pained gasp signaled his body's instinctual reluctance to admit entry. Yet a few deep breaths and Vila's will to relax allowed Avon to sink into the tight, hot channel.

"Ghod, you feel wonderful!" Avon purred as he bent the smaller man in half to reclaim his mouth. He remained motionless, wanting to savor the feeling of being buried within the other; the beating of his heart was echoed by the pulsing in his cock. Positioning outstretched arms on either side of Vila's head, Avon began to slowly thrust. Withdrawing until only the sensitive head of his cock remained securely confined by the constricted ring of muscle, he would pause, then sink again into the yielding flesh. Each long, smooth stroke awarded both men the maximum sensation.

"Avon," Vila crooned as each measured movement brought him closer to orgasm. His own distended erection was captured between their heaving bodies, bringing him stimulation from without as well as within. Running one hand down his lover's back to his buttocks, as his other hand groped Avon from below, Vila's clever fingers parted the quivering cheeks.

Knowing what was about to transpire, Avon ceased movement. Eyes locked onto the other's, he nodded his assent. Oiled fingers hesitantly probled his anus and he clenched his teeth as one, then two, slipped in. Only when initial discomfort turned to a stirring of pleasure did he realize that he was holding his breath. Releasing it with a heavy sigh, he gave the other a reassuringly roguish grin.

At that instant, Vila realized that he too had been holding his breath; at any moment, Avon might decide against the pearls' use. But his lover had acquiesced and was slowly moving within him once again. Removing his fingers to all but the first joint, Vila spread the taut muscle and inserted the first pearl.

Avon closed his eyes, intent on the sensation assailing him. Motions purposely measured, with each withdrawal, one more pearl was tenderly pressed up his rectum as far as the thief's fingers could reach and the next pearl would allow. Each time he sank into the smaller man, the fingers were withdrawn in a motion which lovingly caressed every bit of the delicate moist inner flesh which could be touched. Then, another pearl was gathered and pressed inward to lay momentarily quiescent beside the last. Twelve pearls, twelve such administrations. He mentally counted each pearl as it entered him, uncertain of how much luscious torture he could endure. His body shuddered in hedonistic delight.

The trembling in the arms on either side of Vila's head bespoke of the tech's waning control. With the insertion of the last pearl, he stroked his lover's flanks and thrust up against his invader, urging Avon to seek quicker and deeper penetration.

Avon was indeed not certain how much longer he could hold out. The strand in its entirety gave an oddly erotic sensation of 'fullness', with no outside correlating stimulation — such as another body — to attribute it to. The pearls themselves, their satiny smooth surfaces sliding against one another with each muscle contraction, pressed against his prostate and reverberated along his spine. And his hastened thrusts caused the long silken tassel to whip against his overly sensitized balls. Each nerve–ending was on fire and sweat oozed from every pore.

Beneath him, Vila parried his every thrust, causing their flesh to smack together. Sweat pooled between their straining bodies and ran down his sides. The thief could feel his balls tighten as they began gathering for a volatile orgasm. Arching up into the tech, his spasming cock pumped hot cum onto their bellies. Each rhythmic shudder caused his internal muscles to firmly grasp about their intruder. Above him, Avon had begun to moan.

"Vila," Avon threw his head back, neck muscles straining, "Vila," as he began rapid, shallow thrusts, **"VILA!"** as the thief grabbed the strand by the large knot above the tassel and wrenched it free of his body. With each pearl that passed through the clasping sphincter, Avon felt that he was being turned inside–out. A million stars exploded behind his tightly closed eyes as he erupted into Vila. Chest heaving, he collspased onto his lover.

* * * * *

Several minutes passed before either man was able to regain any semblance of composure. Avon slid off Vila and rolled onto his back next to the thief. Arms flung wide, he encountered his lover's hand, and fingers entwined, gently squeezed.

"That," he gasped, still painfully attempting to catch his breath, "was bloody incredible!"

Still unsure of Avon's ultimate acceptance or rejection in the afterglow of shared sex — no matter how good — Vila's heart swelled to near bursting when the tech squeezed his hand. Rolling onto his side, he dared snuggle against the other, head on his shoulder, arm encircling his waist. He was settling in for the night!

"Vila," the thief tensed, fearing he had pushed his luck and over–stepped Avon's boundaries, "before you get too comfortable, shouldn't you fetch the covers?"

Breathing a sigh of relief, he bent to retrieve the wayward linens which had been pushed to the floor in the heat of passion. Covering them both, then dimming the lights, he returned to his lover's side. Burrowmg in once again, he placed a quick kiss on the exposed neck.

"'Night, Avon."

"Good night, Vila."

Several more minutes passed during which Vila dreamily reran the preceding events.

"Avon?"

"Mmmm." The tech was on the verge of sleep.

"I was thinking…."

"What a novel concept," Avon mumbled, a soft smile at the corners of his expressive lips.

"I was _wondering,_ " the thief attempted again, "how it was that you knew the pearls were missing? Unless _you_ were looking for them yourself?" Suspicious now, Vila raised himself up onto one elbow to peer into his lover's face through the semidarkness. "Just what _did_ you have planned for those pearls, anyway?"

"Vila," Avon opened one eye, striving for his most formidable look of disdain, "go to sleep!"

  


  


### END

  


  



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